


On The Other Side

by AliAbabwa



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depression, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I think that's everything???, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Like major fucking trigger warning mate, Loneliness, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, The Other Side, hoo boy where do i even start, this be some heavy shit, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliAbabwa/pseuds/AliAbabwa
Summary: What exactly happened on the other side? At first, he waited. And waited and waited and waited and waited-
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	On The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING YA'LL. This is some heavy shit I wrote when I was not feeling good so please keep that in mind. This is merely my alternate take on what could have potentially happened to Little Cato during those 60 years so don't come hunting me down because you don't agree with my ideas. Otherwise, enjoy.

###  **Day 1**

It was moments after the collision with the time shard and Little Cato was stirring on the ground, finally waking up. He looked around, visibly confused as he took a moment to recall the events that had just transpired.

He firmly placed his hands on the ground, pushing himself shakily to his feet before approaching the purple and pink force field that kept him isolated from the others. 

"Gary?" His voice was full of uncertainty as he wearily reached out to touch the swirling pink and purple before pulling away. He frowned and kicked it. Nothing. He tapped it lightly. Nothing again. He turned in a full circle, looking worried. 

"Gary? Nightfall? _Anyone_?" He turned back to the forcefield and he sat down. "Okay. he'll get you. It’s fine. Just gotta wait." He spoke aloud to reassure himself. He just had to wait.

And wait he did. He waited. And waited. And waited. And waited-

###  **Day 2**

He woke with a start, his back against the cold metal wall as he blinked the grogginess from his eyes. His gaze once more turned to the purple and he frowned. Okay. Time to stop waiting. He could find a way out himself.

He stood up and looked around the room for something to use to break through. He hefted up a decently sized pipe with a smirk. Perfect.

Gripping it tightly in his hands, he held it back and swung. It bounced, nearly hitting him in the face from the force as the purple rejected it. It clattered to the ground and he stared at it, brows furrowed. Okay. Maybe guns?

He finally found a simple blaster after a few minutes of searching. Unfortunately, the weapons room was on the other side. Luckily, his room was on this side, and he had a decently sized weapon pile stored in his quarters. 

Prepping the weapon with ease, he carefully aimed and then fired. The purple seemed to absorb the gunfire so he simply fired faster, with more ferocity. He emptied two rounds of ammo into the purple before letting out a yell of frustration and throwing the gun itself at the impenetrable wall. 

It bounced and clattered to the floor.

“Stupid thing!” He kicked it across the room and then huffed as he sat down on the ground. he glared at the dumb wall, arms folding over his chest as he scanned its surface for any potential weak points. 

It was the same everywhere he looked. Purple and pink swirling hues that would normally be beautiful to look at but now only brought rage to the young Ventrexian.

But it was alright. He'd find _some_ way out. And if he didn’t, then Gary would. The others would get him. And he’d wait however long it took.

###  **Day 5**

He was ashamed to admit that he had long since run out of tears and ideas on ways to escape the unfathomably strong wall of purple. He'd tried everything to absolutely no avail.

Little Cato rested his forehead against the comforting coolness of the floor, laying stomach down as he contemplated his options. His shoulder hurt so he turned over to lay on his back instead. Fun fact; running full force into a purple force field made of solid space-time was _not_ a good idea.

He placed his hands atop his eyes, dragging his paws down his face in frustration. He was hungry and horribly thirsty and he definitely hadn’t gotten enough sleep. But he couldn’t do any of those things until he escaped. He'd have all the time in the world to rest, eat and drink once he returned to the others. To _Gary._

So he wearily stood to his feet, gritting his teeth as he once more approached the purple wall he was quickly growing to despise. He slammed his fists against it, a growl rumbling up in his throat.

“Dumb _wall_ let me _out_.” His clenched hands were sore. This wasn’t the first time he’d stooped to simply hitting the damn thing. 

It wouldn’t be the last time either.

###  **Day 10**

Loneliness did strange things to a person. Such as new habits forming out of desperation for the company. 

Little Cato had started talking to himself. Either planning new ways to escape aloud or simply muttering incessantly as he paced up and down the glowing purple wall.

It wasn’t unhealthy if it kept the bad feelings of loneliness away, right?

That’s what he kept telling himself. 

“Guns don’t work. Can’t climb it. Can’t go through it…” he mumbled, hand pressed to his mouth as he walked up and down the cold metal halls. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ " He tugged harshly on his ears in exasperation.

He sent a glare at the impenetrable wall before simply sighing heavily and sliding down the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. It was useless. Everything was useless. _He_ was useless. A useless kid who could have killed Gary and had now gotten himself stuck here for quite possibly forever.  
  


His throat hitched at that thought and the tears began to roll down his face. Gary was likely dead and no one would come for him.

He didn’t deserve to be saved anyway.

###  **Day 23**

Perhaps if he pretended that he wasn’t stuck, then he wouldn’t be. Easy peasy, right?

He went through his day as normally as possible with only half of the ship available to him. He woke up at the same time Gary would wake him, went to the side of the kitchen that wasn’t engulfed by purple, and ate whatever he could find left in the fridge. 

Then he would head to the engine room to clean the quickly rusting machines and pieces, spending hours tidying up until there was nothing left to clean.

After that, he’d sit in the corner by the purple, reading one of the many books he had found in Nightfall and Ash’s room to waste time. He decided he quite enjoyed the fantasy genre. It allowed him to escape.

Day after day. Things were normal. He was normal. _Everything was fine_.

He was in denial.

###  **Day 30**

The anger hit hard and fast, leaving him breathless as he slammed and kicked the wall with every ounce of strength remaining in his tiny body. His desperate, furious screams echoed constantly down the halls of the lonely ship. 

Maybe if he screamed loud enough, then someone would hear him. 

His knuckles were bruised and bloodied and his shoulders sore. He spent four days like this--never taking a break from angrily pounding on the purple as he tried to somehow break through.

He never did.

The only thing broken down was his spirit.

###  **Day 35**

“Come on, _please”_ He wasn't begging, he was trying to compromise.

“Just let me at least see _through_ this damn thing.” He grumbled, forehead against the purple as he tried to communicate with it.

Maybe if he just spoke kindly to it, then it would let him through.

It didn’t let him through.

No matter how many promises he made to the purple or how many different things he offered to do or say, it would not allow him through.

His bargaining was a waste of time.

###  **Day 41**

He knew this was the depression stage of his grief, but he didn’t care. Everything was so numb and he was so tired. He just wanted everything to go away and he just wanted to be safe and happy again. 

The ship was quickly falling apart all around him but he barely had the motivation to go around fixing the failing life support systems and holes in the hull.

So he simply wallowed in his own sadness and pity as he stayed in his bed for days.

Perhaps he could end it all. Maybe this was all some really messed up dream and if he shot himself in the head, then it would wake him up.

He knew it wasn’t so, but the thought was nonetheless highly tempting.

He was just so _alone_.

He just wanted to _feel_ again…

###  **Day 53**

“Hi, dad.” He tried to smile at the blue hologram of his father only for it to come out strained. He hadn’t smiled properly in a very long time. “Miss you.” He frowned, typing away to code the hologram to smile warmly at him. 

_“You’re doing great, son.”_

He watched the hologram silently before shaking his head. “No, I’m not. I’m weak. I killed Gary and I killed you. Maybe I deserve all of this.”

_“You don’t deserve any of this. Not the isolation. Not the loneliness. Not the pain or the grief. You deserve happiness.”_

A bitter laugh escaped his throat at that. “Uh-huh. Sure, dad.” He rolled his eyes and then frowned. “If that were true, then why would all this be happening to me?” He sighed, going quiet for a moment. And then he began to type something new out.

“ _You failed. Yourself and everyone else.”_ He winced but continued. “ _You should just die.”_

He lifted his fingers from the keyboard and then buried his face in his hands. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.”

This was the first time he drew his own blood.

It was most certainly not the last.  
  


###  **Year 3**

Acceptance had come gradually after nearly two years of stewing in his own tears and grief. It took a long while but finally, he picked himself off the ground and blasted loggins through the ship as he made his way around to perform the greatly needed repairs.

It was a welcome distraction and the slowly rusting shipping constantly gave him more to focus on fixing, but soon even the constant work and repairing wouldn’t help with his grief and guilt.

He knew Gary was dead by now. He had to be because otherwise, he would have come for him. It was his fault but it was okay now. He was okay now.

He just had to keep it together and continue fighting onward. If he could fix the engine then perhaps he could somehow get out of here and move on with his life. Join a group of bounty hunters like his dad and try to forget Gary and the others.

“Easy,” he muttered to himself, running the back of his hand over his forehead--leaving a grease stain in his long since faded brown-blue hair. “Fix the engines. Gotta just fix the engines.”

###  **Year 17**

He was covered head to toe in scars and missing patches of fur. He had taken to spending entire days simply running a blade down his arms and legs until there was no more room and sitting in front of the mirror as he slowly pulled out patches of his fur from his tail and ears.

His appearance didn’t bother him. It wasn’t as though anyone was going to see him.

And it was his only entertainment on this lonely side of the ship.

Well, that and sometimes seeing Nightfall or Mooncake in the corner of his eye. He'd be sitting at the counter, slicing away with a content look until suddenly a shadow would pass by the edge of his vision. 

He’d spend the rest of the day desperately calling out for Gary or Nightfall or _anyone_ but no one ever came.

So he drew more blood until his weak body hallucinated the face of his smiling friends and then he’d fall into a relaxed slumber, grateful to have his friends back for even the briefest of moments.

###  **Year 60**

The titan had been fought. And Little Cato had won. 

But that wasn’t really what had happened.

What happened was Little Cato slowly creating an extravagant story on the spot--making a crude device that truly did nothing and imagining that it had brought forth a titan.

He had gone to his room, shouting orders to a Mooncake and Nightfall that simply weren’t there before he collapsed sobbing on the floor.

The titan exploded and he was shot in the stomach.

The gun clattered to the ground--the only real thing in this room beside the bed and desk.

Tears of simultaneous pain and relief flooded his eyes as he stumbled out and into the hall, closing his eyes and imagining Nightfall’s comforting presence and touch. He fell to his knees before the purple, turning and resting his head against the cold metal wall behind him.

“G-Good job Little Cato.”

“Y-You did great.”

“Fought o-off the titan.” He coughed and blood dribbled down his lips.

He smiled weakly--eyes unfocused as he glanced at the nothingness around him as if he weren’t alone. “I-It was really a team effort.” He wheezed, a hand coming up to clutch at the wound with a painful wince. 

“W-Without you guys-” Another hacking cough as his vision began to go dark around the edges. “I-I’d have gone crazy.” He raised his arms up as if expecting a hug that never came before his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

It was then that the purple had begun to recede--flowing over the Ventrexian and restoring him to his proper age and health as Gary hastily rushed to his aid. The bullet wound was gone, along with each and every scar lining his body.

And-as they say-the rest is history.

“You are okay, right?”

_No_.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.”

He walked away, eyes tired and full of such a deep, weariness that did not befit that of the young eyes of a child.

**Author's Note:**

> YES I know the gunshot faded with the hallucinations before Gary broke through the wall, but again--MY ALTERNATE TAKE. I hope you enjoyed reading this angsty piece of crap XD


End file.
